


Fucked up ...but still sweet. Kind of

by Escritora2Aliasfox



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M, Not What It Looks Like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 22:13:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13327434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Escritora2Aliasfox/pseuds/Escritora2Aliasfox
Summary: Not written to be erotic but more heroic so yes, there are incuby in here ...but is not like that... I think?





	Fucked up ...but still sweet. Kind of

Aziraphale called Crowley asking for the next dinner at the Ritz, for the third time.  
And again, he got no answer.  
He was starting to worry. He didn’t mean to be rude, but what if something had happened?

The two of them had started seeing each other more often since they decided to raise the Warlock kid, and after the whole apocalipse fiasco, they had form a little nice routine, wich they carefully called “keeping in touch”  
(or would, if they ever dared to mention it)

Not that they weren’t used to each otehr before. Both were lonely without the other to chat and drink without boundaries from time to time…

Aziraphale needed one of those chats. He needed it! It was like he had an addiction and was missing a shot, it was making him anxious!

Not to mention, Maybe there was something wrong with the demon!  
So he did just what anyone would do: wait as long as he could, and then go over to his place and check the situation out.

Holy shit was something wrong. So, very wrong.

No one answered the door. He had to use a miracle. The moment he opened it, a thick wave of salty and sweet smell hit him. Also warmth and humidity. Like someone coocked spicy food in a sauna.  
The room was dark and only a few candles here and there gave it a bit of an ambient.

Aziraphale had to force himself to walk inside. Not without effort: there was barely any oxygen in the air, only decay. Good thing he didn’t need to breathe.

His eyes needed to get used to the light, but he could hear something, somewere inside the place… ahead of him, in the floor. …emiting a constant, low sound of…  
Low wimpering, and something sliky?

His eyes grew a bit acostumed to the light and he distinguesed a figure moving in the floor.

“Crowley?” There was a deep, hurt animal-like groan as an answer.  
He wouldn’t take it anymore. He lit his halo and bathed the scene in light.  
What a scene.

Crowley’s beautifull plants had started to slowly die, due to deprivation of sunlight, since every window was locked, curtains included.

In a pool of something humid and slick in the floor, half way across the carpet, lied Crowley, looking not only very unhealthy and weak, but also in trance.  
Even if he tried he could not get up: there was someone sitting on him.

Aziraphale.  
Or rather, another Aziraphale. An impostor.

The fake Aziraphale looked at the newcomer.  
He was naked, wings out, stradling Crowley (and aparently, being penetrated by him) but Crowley didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were stuck in nowhere, half way across to the ceiling.

It took a little for Aziraphale to understand the situation. At first he just didn’t. The first thing that, finally, came to mind was ‘well, I have to do something; can’t just stand here… wait. Crowley seems in trouble’

He gave another step forward and was callig the demon’s name when a new shadow crossed his way.

He was suddenly staring at himself. Well, those were his eyes, and that was his face, but it was a different version: one he had wore years ago in… when? he had wore so many tunics he couldn’t tell if this one was the roman or the pre-atlantic one. The features were similar…

The other him spoke with a shy smile

“well, angel. Wellcome”

And that was not his voice. It was Crowley’s.

“You were misssing me, angel?”

His eyes turned yellow in an odd color shift and his facial features started morfing very fast, but somehow naturaly, like a chamileon.

It hit him hard. The realization: this was a sucubus.  
Or rather, and incubus. See, they can be male or female but its the same thing. They can change at will. And they feed on life energy… throu sex.  
Aziraphale flinched and looked back at the figures on the floor.

The other incubus, looking like him was again concentrated on Crowley and kept moving. To the untrained eye it could look like normal sex.  
To Aziraphale it looked like a hungry lion eating up his friend, slowly, as if knowing he was not really going to be disturbed.

“Angel” Aziraphale looked back at the one in front of him. It looked like Crowley on his regular clothes, like usual.  
“would you like a glass of wine?”  
And somehow his voice was distracting. But Aziraphale didn’t hesitate. 

With one mighty push, he threw the fake Crowley off his way and run towards his real friend, slowly being drank away in the floor.  
The incubus sitting on Crowley, still looking like him profered a nearly human-like hiss

“Angel, please!” fake Crowley begged him from the floor, looking like an injured and mistreated friend. The sound of the voice of this creatures was as much distracting and hypnoticing as a swan’s voice is beautifull but the angel couldn’t be distracted from his true friend. He was getting ready to kick himelf off of Crowley’s body when yet a third sex-specialiced demon stood on his way.

And this did struck him with shock.  
This new incubus was offering him something he never knew he may want. Something that did make him curious. Something beautifull.

An angel Crowley. The way he was before the fall. Innocent, younger, calmer, happy.  
His eyes so… normal, so beautifull, soft honey with maybe a bit of forest green… his halo, so perfect and…

Aziraphale couldn’t help but ask himself… did Crowley really look like this before the fall or was it just a reinterpretation of the incubus…?

Before he could react, the one that was on the floor behind him jumped onto his back, and bit his neck.  
It was not a violent bite. It didn’t break his skin. It was an erotic nip, but it did suck the energy off him like a leach would your blood. 

Aziraphale flinched, but before he could, the one in front of him, the angel-Crowley looking one held him by the hands and kissed him on the lips.  
It was a full kiss with just a bit of tounge, but Aziraphale felt his knees go numb and his head spin. Just like the spit of a vampire bat, the power of the incubus left his brain floating in a coctel of feromones.

Here is where his patience run off: he was most interested in the one Crowley lying motionless on the floor, and the fact that now he was making an effort was the straw that broke the camel’s back: he had been confused before. He was now furious.

The two demons that had dared to slow him down in hopes of sucking as much as they could noticed their mistake when the wrath of a principality burnt their skin werever it was making contact with them. They jumped off and scatered away hissing in pain, their ears still ringing with the curses and insults Aziraphale was screaming in enochian.

The third one would not commit the same mistake: it dissapeared off the window before Aziraphale could walk one step closer.  
He found himself alone in the room with the one and only, real Crowley.

He knelt next to the poor thing and doubted if to touch him, and how.

“Crowley? can you hear me? are you awake?”

No response. Crowley looked very sick. Aziraphale cursed jet again and lied a hand on his forehead, noticing a high fever. Then, carefully he lifted him.  
Now the demon emited a moan aziraphale didn’t want to understand. He caried his friend over to the bath tub while speaking calming words, more to himself, really.  
With a thoug, all of the windows were open, and the door closed.

Had Crowley been human, he would be dead: dehidrated, poisoned by an overdose of his own natural chemicals (plus a few ones from the incuby) and obviously exausted.  
Not to mention the state of his genitalia.  
…that couldn’t be good.

Aziraphale went gentle and slow as he washed him with warm water, and he did give him a few healing carasses for good measure.  
Crowley emited a few pitifull sounds that could be of pleasure as much as of pain.  
Aziraphale wondered if he noticed it was him.

He droped Crowley in the bed and gave him some much needed water, and an evercold towel for his forehead. Then, when he felt he had nothing else to nurse him with, he just wandered around the place healing plants and miracling away the smell impregnated deep within the carpet.

He took in the looks of the flat. As much as one can get of an ikea panflet, more or less. He did wonder how much of a home was this place to Crowley: he did not expend much time here, and he barely ever got atached, but he did sleep here, keep his plants, and watch tv and stuff. How much of it reflected his personality and how much was the image he tried to achieve? How much did those concepts difer?

At some point he run out of room to pace and went back to Crowley’s side, the demon lookng much better. And then he was assaulted by new questions, and he did not lift his gaze of him anymore.

The sucuby were consuming Crowley with his form. Not only that, but with how he looked back in the old days.  
…and they appeared to him as Crowley, in different forms.  
Also was that how he looked back before the fa…?  
Shit

He had it bad.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy christmas, hannuka, easter, wise men day, yule, saturnalia and all that...  
> sorry Im late  
> I was hiding under a rock


End file.
